Give Your Heart A Break
by LiveLIFEwithNORegrets
Summary: All Ryan wanted was the perfect grade on her archeology thesis paper. Instead, she got aliens chasing after her. But she got the Doctor and adventures beyond imagination, too. Yet, what does he have? Maybe she can give him a break from heartache. 11xOC.
1. Chapter 1

****_Woot! Woot! Doctor Who Fanfiction. This will be an Eleventh Doctor romance story because, don't get me wrong, Ten will always hold a special place in my heart, but there's just something about Eleven that I can't help but love. Besides, there's not enough lovers of Eleven. Thus, this. Now, as much as I love River Song, she will not be in this story because one, it will have mentioning of the original plotline, but will not be following it and two, she is just too perfect for the Doctor, that I couldn't bring myself to tear them apart in my story. I hope you all understand. Do not worry, though, there shall be enough rivals for our dear protagonist. Anyway, here's the first chapter. Hope you enjoy it. Please, review. Oh! And if I get anything wrong pertaining to Torchwood please tell me and I shall correct it. Thanks._

_**Disclaimer:**** I do NOT Doctor Who; it is rightfully owned by Steve Moffat. All I own is Ryan Hicks, other OFCs, and the plot.**_

_**Warning:**** Eleventh Doctor and OFC romance, crude humor, swearing, mild sexual content, violence, some gore, some historical inconsistencies, and drug and alcohol references.**_

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><p><strong><span>:1:<span>**

**I'D ADMIT THAT** not all of my plans were exactly full-proof, let alone considered brilliant. And I'd admit that the plan I was going through with right now was no exception to that. Absolutely not. Actually, if I was going to be completely honest, this plan was probably my dumbest one yet. Not to mention, my most illegal. Nevertheless, if I succeeded, it would be my most acclaimed one.

I was going to break into the British government's database. I was going to obtain all of its information pertaining to the secret organization _Torchwood_. I was going to get that perfect grade on my archaeology class thesis paper. My form was xenoarcheology and the subject being the existence of aliens and the secret organizations that are hiding extraterrestrial activity on Earth thus, _Torchwood_.

My professor had been very hesitant to give me permission to write my thesis on _Torchwood_ because, to most people, it was just a myth, especially to us Americans. I understood his apprehension, as there was very little evidence of the organization; there was pretty much close to nothing on it. However, that's if you didn't know where to look. If you looked hard enough, one could find exactly what they needed. I knew where to look because I had been studying xenoarcheology since I was young.

_Torchwood _had been around for more than two centuries and had been covering up alien and supernatural activity since then. There were very few witnesses to the activates of _Torchwood_, only handful, which I found near impossible so I had a theory that they had something to erase the person's memory of them—that was a story for another day, though. Either way, the witnesses' statements were difficult to decipher and very misleading making people believe they were just crazy—something that wasn't entirely improbable. Not to mention, _Torchwood _was incredibly discreet. The only cases that I had obtained any kind of information from were the couple of times a few years ago when alien activity had occurred worldwide, but that was because I had seen it with my own two eyes. People tried denying that the planet hadn't been almost invaded twice, but even a blind person had seen what had happened; it had been all over the sky and on the television. Even _Torchwood_ couldn't hide what had happened.

Long story short, _Torchwood_ and aliens existed and I was going to prove such in my paper, but I needed the evidence. And the only way I was going to do that was getting it from the direct source AKA the _Torchwood _database. And that meant I had to hack into the British government's and worm my way through it to the _Torchwood_ one.

A very tricky and illegal thing indeed.

Thankfully, I had a genius for a roommate and a mighty Devil-may-care attitude.

"I hope ya know how nuts this all is." pointed out my aforementioned genius of a roommate, Corey Angies from his place before my laptop.

"Well, its not like you disagreed to it." I countered in the same Know-It-All tone as him, my arms crossed over my chest. I was standing behind the blonde at my bedroom's desk, impatiently waiting.

"She's got ya there, babe." my other roommate, Jordan MacDonald's piped up. The petite brunette was perched on top of my unmade bed, idly kicking her legs back and forth.

Corey shot a glare over his broad shoulder at his girlfriend, yet said nothing and continued to clack away at the computer's keyboard. "That doesn't make this any less nuts. I only agreed to it because Ryan told me to use her laptop, so it'd trace back to her and not to me."

"And if I promised to pay you fifty bucks." I added bitterly. I was going to miss that fifty bucks. "Besides, it won't get traced, not if you do it correctly."

"Yeah, _if_." he retorted huffily.

Childishly, I stuck out my tongue at the back of his head.

"But are you really sure about this, Ry?" asked Jordan, her big brown eyes looking up at me worriedly. "I mean, Dr. Yeager gave us so many other topics to research. Ones that would be so much easier,"

"And less illegal!" exclaimed Corey.

Jordan and I rolled our eyes; he was such a whiner. Jordan went on, "You're one of the best students in the class, you'd get an 'A' on anything you did, so why this?"

"I don't want an easy 'A', Jordan." I admitted truthfully. I raked a hand through my thick, strawberry-blonde locks. "I want to do my thesis on something I have interest in, on something no one's ever done before. All those other subjects are boring and overdone." Noticing my best friend's frown, I quickly added albeit awkwardly, "Uh, no offense, hun."

"In other words, she wants to show off." the only male in the room interjected again, baby blues focused on the computer screen.

Scowling, I whacked the back of his head. He yelped and glowered back at me, rubbing his now throbbing skull. I just returned the look evenly before pointing to back to my computer, saying, "Fifty bucks." He snorted indignantly, but returned to working.

Fifty bucks was fifty bucks, after all.

"All right, I'm in. I've hacked into the _Torchwood_ database." Corey finally announced after another hour of waiting, sounding exasperated, but quite proud of himself as well. Excitedly, I shot up from my place beside Jordan on my bed of our shared apartment and rushed to the desk; if I was a dog, my tail would've been wagging. Corey turned, spinning slightly in my wheelie chair, and pointed a slightly thick finger at me sternly. "Now, only look at the files that you'll need for your research, nothing else, and be quick about it 'cuz I could only manage to get you half an hour before the British government discovers that they've been hacked. Got it?" he explained slowly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I rolled my eyes beneath my glasses, my eagerness taking over and making me fidget. "Now, move." I ordered, shoving him from my chair.

"I'm being serious, Ryan. thirty minutes. Only what you need." He shoved me back.

"Okay! I get it! I'm not a dumbass!" I returned his shove with another shove, but harder.

"_Ryan_,"

Another shove.

"You're wasting time, Corey!"

Another shove.

Sighing deeply in frustration, Corey gave up and stood. "C'mon, Jordan. Lets leave the psycho to her work." he grumbled. I promptly flipped him off from over my shoulder, sitting down, and brushed off the trepid expression Jordan gave me before exiting my room with her boyfriend.

She had no reason to be worried, I was a big girl, I knew what I was doing, no matter how ludicrous my plan was.

I was going to get that perfect grade, no matter what.

Wiggling my fingers and beaming like a madwoman, I pulled my laptop closer to me and got to work.

And my God, the stuff I learned. I had officially hit a Gold Mine, I had found the Holy Grail, and any other way you could describe the information I found.

For starters, I had found the usual basic stuff like when _Torchwood_ had been established (1879) and where institutes were built (England, Wales, Scotland, and India) and what was it exactly they did. Basically, things I already knew, including that one of the institutes, Torchwood Four, was missing. Second, I found things I didn't know and that was the information that I had desperately needed for my research paper.

As I worked, I jotted down everything speedily on the notepad I always had placed beside my computer. As my eyes danced about, so did my hand and I knew there was a huge grin on my face. I even found out a couple of extra things, seeing I had a lot of time because I was working so fast. For instance, I dipped into a special file titled "The Doctor". There wasn't much in it, except that he was a mysterious man, who seemed to change his face, traveled in a blue box, and was considered an enemy to the Crown.

Eventually, I found all that I could possibly find and had scribbled it down. That being, I was about to exit out of window when something caught my eye.

A file hidden all the way in the corner that read "Top Secret".

As I stared at it, I bit my lip feeling that side of me that loved taking risks and was terribly curious rear its ugly head.

I checked the digital clock on the top right-hand side of my computer. I had two more minutes before I had log out.

I smirked.

That was enough time. That was definitely enough time to give the file a bit of a peek.

I opened the file and instantly began to read.

And what I read made absolutely no sense to me. All I could get from it was that the file had been written by a man called Jack Harkness and that it pertained to the Doctor, something called the Time Vortex, and needles. That was it. It seemed so jumbled and complicated that I had a lot of trouble wrapping my mind around it.

However, before I could go further in depth, a hand shot out, slamming down on the mouse pad and exiting out of the _Torchwood_ database.

"Hey!"

"I said half an hour, Ryan." Corey glared down at me.

I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. "Tight ass…" I said under my breath.

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><p>After listening to Corey chide to me for nearly two hours, including over dinner, I went back to my room to start on my paper. Sure, it was not due for another month and typing up forty-five pages, double-spaced in twelve-point font would be simple for me—not to brag or anything—but all the information I had learned was still fresh in my mind and was begging me to get started. Thus, I went straight to it, organizing my notes, drawing up a diagram of what I wanted in my thesis, and then, writing up the first rough draft.<p>

It was about 2:30 am and I was a quarter of the way done when there came a light knock at my door.

I placed down my pen and turned to see Jordan standing there. I arched an eyebrow. "Hey, what are you doing still up?" I inquired quizzically.

"Its kinda hard when the person next to you keeps talking." the younger and shorter female admitted sheepishly.

I deadpanned. "Is he still bitching and moaning?" She nodded, her embarrassment growing for her lover. I rolled my greenish hues, groaning—Corey was twenty-two for Christ's sake. "He's such a pain in the ass. You'd think after paying him, he'd shut up."

"He just likes to hear himself talk."

"That's true," I laughed with her shortly joining in.

After a few moments of us giggling at Corey's expense, we calmed and Jordan made herself comfortable on my bed, straightening her baggy nightshirt that had originally belonged to Corey. "Ryan, may I ask you something?" she said seriously.

My brows furrowed bemused by her tone, but replied, nonetheless, "Uh, yeah, sure. Shoot."

"Don't you think you're taking things a little too far?" she questioned.

I blinked. "…Meaning?"

"I mean, breaking into the British government's database, fishing through a secret organization's files…y'know, stuff like that."

"C'mon, Jordan. Yeah, it was illegal, but I logged off before my fifteen minutes were up and I have some really awesome stuff for my paper. It's not that big of a deal. The British won't know and I'm sure the professor won't question where I got the information—I'll say I found newspaper articles or something. It'll be fine. I've covered all the bases. No worries."

Jordan sighed, fiddling her massive mane that she had put in low pigtails. "That's not what I meant, Ry."

"Then, _what_ did you mean?"

"I meant your weird obsession with all this extraterrestrial, sci-fi, space and time travel stuff."

"Oh…"

Frowning, I scratched my ear, looking away, looking pointedly to the single picture frame I had on my desk.

It was of a man with a smile that could light up any room, graying black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and a tiny beauty mark beneath one eye. He wasn't a very handsome man, but you could tell, just from that single picture that he had been a kind-hearted and eager man, brimming with life.

I steadily peered back to Jordan. She was looking at me sadly as she had followed my gaze. I gave her a very tiny grin. "Dad loved that kinda stuff and would constantly go on about it. People thought he was nuts. I wanna prove that he wasn't and this is the first step." I confessed softly.

"Ryan," Jordan began.

I cut her off not wanting to hear her apologizes, not wanting to have her pity, having heard it so many times before. "Besides," I peered behind me, out my window at the night sky that was filled with stars and was lighted up by the brilliant moon. "Doesn't everyone dream of what lies out there?" I murmured solemnly, mostly to myself.

Taking a deep breath, I turned back to my friend and forced a grin upon my face. "Anyway, I've got a paper to write and you have sleep to catch up on, missy, so get out."

Seeming convinced by my smile, Jordan laughed, shaking her head. "All right, all right," she rose, giggling. "I know when I'm not wanted." She gave me a quick hug, which I happily returned. "Don't stay up too late, young lady. We have an eight o'clock shift tomorrow that ya can't call out of this time. Got it?

I mocked a roll of my eyes. "Yes, _Mother_."

She smacked my shoulder lightly, but laughed before leaving, closing the door behind her. I sighed, sinking in my seat once my door was closed, and looked back at my window.

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><p><em>Thank you so much for reading~! Please, review!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

****_Well, here's chapter two, everyone. Thank you to the one person who reviewed-sorry for not replying to you yet, I will-and to those who favored and subscribed this story so far. I am very appreciative. Anyway, here's the next segment, and guess who's in it? *wink wink* Enjoy! Please review!_

_**Disclaimer:**** I do NOT own Doctor Who; it is rightfully owned by Steve Moffat. All I own is Ryan Hicks, other OFCs, and the plot.**_

_**Warning:**** Eleventh Doctor and OC romance, swearing, crude humor, mild sexual content, violence, historical inaccuracies, and drug and alcohol references.**_

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><p><strong><span>:2:<span>**

**TO SAY** I hated mornings would be a complete and total understatement. I detested mornings with every fiber of my being. Hell, even my nose hated mornings. If I woke up at any time before the afternoon, my nose would be congested, being stuffy and runny all at the same time. That's why I generally asked for shifts at _Starbucks_, where Jordan and I worked, and for classes, at the college she, Corey, and I attended, later on in the day. I couldn't function properly otherwise. Nonetheless, I didn't always have the best of luck—actually, I rarely had the best of luck, but things happened.

Such bad luck was when Jordan and I got a new manager, who was an ignoramus and listened to nothing his employees told him thus, scheduling people on bad days. In other words, putting me on the early morning shift at _Starbucks_.

I was miserable.

I had stayed up to nearly five o'clock that morning working on my paper and had managed to only get an hour and a half of sleep before my alarm went off indicating I needed to start getting ready for work. I rushed into the shower forgetting to check the temperature so it was scorching hot then, I managed to get shampoo in my eyes. My contacts wouldn't go in being incredibly stubborn. That had absorbed most of my time, so I hadn't had any time to put on any make-up and hardly had had any time for breakfast.

My eyes burned, I was wearing no make-up, my hair was a mess, my stomach felt empty, and I couldn't breathe through my nose and had to constantly blow it.

So to reiterate, I was _miserable_.

And to make matters worse I worked at _Starbucks_ and mornings at _Starbucks_ were what I imagined Hell to be like.

It was crowded, full of grouchy, snobby business people and loud, annoying teenagers. Not to mention, we had two new people who had been foolishly placed on the morning shift so they had little to no idea how to handle the morning franticness leaving Jordan and I to pick up the slack.

I was ready to murder. Probably smother someone with my snotty tissues.

And that was when _he_ appeared.

A man that even if he were wearing a normal attire and not a tweed jacket, a bright red tie, a button up tucked into tight black pants, and black boots would stand out from a crowd with his floppy brown hair swept to one side, twinkling pale green eyes, light complexion, and a smile as brilliant as the sun. He walked with confidence and a childish skip to his step.

The man sauntered fluidly through the large group of heads, grinning at me the entire time. He moved around the counter, marched right up to my station while my employees and I stared at him dumbstruck and started fixing himself a drink. Before long, he had a large caramel cappuccino with extra foam in his hand. He flashed me a boyish grin, tapped my nose affectionately with a wink and then, flounced off.

I only snapped out my stupor when I heard the door ring announcing his exit.

I raced to the front door, ripped it open, and screamed furiously, "Hey, asshole! You gotta pay for that!"

Only thing was I shouting into a crowded parking lot, showing no signs of the man, just people staring at me like I was nuts. Scoffing, I turned back into the coffee shop, muttering grumpily under my breath cursing the man who hadn't even tipped me. I just returned my post, shaking my head when Jordan looked at me bewildered.

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><p>Luckily, at least for that guy, I didn't see him again and nothing else strange had happened since then. Well, other than getting a new dance instructor at school, who was a bit…<em>off<em>, but that was it. Otherwise, life was pretty much normal—normal for me, at least. However, not too long after I handed in my archeology paper a month later, things got a bit…_funky_. My roommates said I was just being paranoid and maybe I was, but there was just something strange going on at our college Portland State University that I couldn't help noticing.

See, not long after I handed in my thesis to Dr. Yeager, professors at the university started suddenly going on sabbatical and were replaced with people, who were a little more than odd-to put it delicately. Kind of like the person who had replaced my jazz dance professor. They looked completely normal, but they behaved peculiarly as if they were uncomfortable in their own skin. As well, when I crossed them in the hallway or was answering a question or spoke to them one on one, they'd stare at me so closely that it sent shivers down my spine and my stomach to churn.

Corey and Jordan told me that I had just lost too much sleep because of my paper. Perhaps they were right since no one else seemed particularly worried. People had been falling to a nasty stomach virus lately (Corey had had it), so maybe that's why all the teachers were disappearing suddenly.

So then why did I have this sinking feeling growing in the pit of my stomach?

"_Hey!_"

Suddenly, something collided with my head, causing me to snap out of my thoughts.

Blinking, I glanced down to see that a fry had been the culprit. No wonder why it had felt greasy and hot.

I shot the young man sitting across from me a heated look. "Dude, not cool."

"Well, Jordan was talking to you and you were spacing out." the bulky boy retorted.

"So you threw a fry at me?"

"It got your attention, didn't it?"

I deadpanned. "I'd say I hate you, but you gave me a free fry, so I will refrain from doing so." I muttered dryly, picking up said fry and popping it into my mouth.

Corey's handsome face contorted into one of disgust. "What if I had sneezed on that?"

"Extra flavoring." I shrugged carelessly.

"…Okay, gross, Ryan."

"Oh, don't be such a woman, Corey. You didn't actually sneeze on it, so what does it matter?"

"That doesn't make it any less nasty."

"So is watching you and Jordan make out, but you don't hear me complaining."

Red blossomed on his tanned cheeks. "No one asks you to watch!"

"You do it in the living room, a public place." I argued.

Corey, entirely red in the face, opened his mouth to snap back, but Jordan, who was sitting between us at the circular cafeteria table, cut him off, "_Anyway!_" Our attention was drawn to her. She could be fairly loud for such a small person. "As I was saying," the little brunette began with a bit of exasperation in her tone at our usual childish banter. "We have a substitute for physics today."

My eyebrows shot up. "What? What happened to Dr. Matin?" I asked quizzically, wariness building up in my stomach again.

"He apparently fell down the stairs in his house and broke his leg. His wife called in and told the dean, who told his daughter, Megan, who told Erica, who told me."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Dr. Matin was old and a bit of a clumsy man, so him falling down the stairs and breaking something didn't sound so weird. The other professors, who had called out hadn't had an excuse. They just didn't come in to teach their classes.

"Oh. Did Erica tell you what the teacher is like?" I inquired, the tension in my shoulders evaporating.

Jordan nodded. "She had him earlier. He's British and is really young, really cute too. Kinda weird, though. She said he has a tendency to ramble on about stuff that doesn't make sense," she explained, idly sipping her bottle of water.

I couldn't help smirking a little. "British, young, cute, and quirky? Sounds like my brand of teacher."

My best friend guffawed while Corey rolled his eyes. "What is with girls and accents?"

"Its sexy, that's what," I pointed out in a mock logical tone, waving my half-eaten burger in his face. "Nice to listen to and if he's cute, something nice to look at, too. And that makes for a very fun class for Ryan."

"You are such a pervert, Ry," he said, deadpanning.

"Nope! Just lonely!" I glanced down at my cellphone on top of the gray table beside my tray and beamed. "And look at that, time for Mr. Cutie's class!" I gathered my things, getting my feet. "We mustn't be late! Don't wanna make a bad impression, do we?"

Jordan continued to laugh at me as Corey rolled his eyes once again, yet he followed his girlfriend and I out of the school's noisy cafeteria.

Much to my disappointment, though, our substitute teacher for physics wasn't what I had been expecting.

Don't get me wrong, he was definitely attractive, was most certainly English, and was definitely odd, but that was not what had kept me from being bored during the lesson. Oh, no, definitely not. What had distracted me was that our substitute was none other than the guy who came into my workplace and had made himself a drink without paying a month earlier. I knew I wasn't just imagining things because the look on Jordan's sweet face confirmed it. It was him without a doubt.

That being, I wasn't distracted by pleasant fantasies of our attractive professor, I was distracted by my anger, which couldn't wait to give the man a piece of my mind and get the money he owed me.

So when classed was dismissed with an energetic farewell from Professor Smith, I instantly made a beeline for the front of the class, ignoring Jordan's motherly warnings on treating a teacher properly. I wasn't in high school anymore; they couldn't expel me or give me detention for being brash with a teacher, especially when I was paying to take their classes. We were all adults here; its not like I was going to physically attack him or anything, just yell a bit.

"Hey, Professor," I called to him gruffly, my hands on my hips once I stood before his desk.

At my voice, the teacher tore his attention away from drawing…something—what the Hell was that supposed to be? A person? A monster?—on the chalkboard to peer to me. Instantly, a wide, goofy graced his boyish face being brighter than his red bowtie-who had told him that that had been a good idea to wear? "Yes, Miss…?" His excitement faltered a little when he realized he did not know my name.

"Hicks. Ryan Hicks."

"Ah! Yes! Brilliant! Lovely name!"

I blinked. "…Uh, yeah, thanks." How was Ryan Hicks a lovely name? It was so plain and normal. Well, no matter, that was not what I had cornered the teacher to talk about. "Anyway, I need to talk to you about something." I claimed.

"And that would be?"

"The money you owe me."

It was his turn to blink. "…Excuse me?"

Oh, he was going to take the "innocent route". _That won't work on me, pal._, I thought with a scoff. "Sorry, Professor, but I knew that was you a month ago. My eyesight may not be the best, but I'm not_ that_ blind." He still looked confused, tilting his head to the side a little. I would've actually thought it to be cute if I hadn't been so focused on getting the money I deserved. I may have also been a bit blinded by anger, too; I had a bit of a short temper, I'd admit. "You came into _Starbucks_, waltzed around the counter and made yourself a caramel cappuccino with extra cream like you owned the place then, bounced without paying. Now, I'd really like that dough before my boss finds out and has my head, okay? So if you'd be oh, so kind," I held my hand out.

I was pretty sure I sounded like someone from the mafia, but I didn't care. I wanted my money; I wasn't going to get fired over this, I needed that job.

"A caramel cappuccino with extra cream you say? _Hmmm_. Have I ever had one of those?" He tapped his chin as if deep in thought, furrowing his brows. Was he making fun of me? Soon, he grinned. "No, no, I don't think I have! Are they good?"

I deadpanned. What was with this guy? "You would know since you _had_ one, dude." I retorted dully, feeling my right eye twitch slightly.

"Sorry. Never had one," the professor said with a coy shrug.

My eyes narrowed as they searched his youthful face for any hint of falsehood. However, much to my giant surprise, I found only sincerity. He honestly had no idea what I was talking about; he never had a cappuccino in his entire life, let alone yesterday.

My anger started to ebb away, my shoulders slumping.

"Then, do ya have a brother or something? Possibly?"

"Used to."

"…Oh, uh…"

Well, I was stumped.

Blood crept to my face and I bit my lip, scratching the back of my neck. I felt like a complete idiot now.

I mean, he looked _exactly _like the guy, ridiculous bowtie and everything, but I took pride in the fact that I was a good judge of character and Dr. Smith was not lying. So then whom did I see that day? Evil twin perhaps that Dr. Smith did not know of and was pulling pranks to slander his good name?

…Okay, scratch that, that was just dumb. My imagination was far too wild sometimes, even for me.

Either way, I felt incredibly foolish and a bit at a loss—what about my money?

Nevertheless, pulling on my politest and most apologetic smile, I said to the teacher, "I'm sorry for accusing you, sir. I hope you can forgive me." _Should I bow my head or something for good measure?,_ I thought awkwardly.

He beamed brightly, chuckling, which sounded quite pleasant and lively. "Of course, Miss Hicks! No hard feelings! I guess I just have one of those faces!"

"…Uh, yeah, right." was all I could think of saying with a forced lopsided smile. Clearing my throat uncomfortably, I shifted my messenger bag on my shoulder. "Well, I um, should probably go. I-I don't wanna be late for my next lecture, y'know?"

"Okidokie! Nice talking to you, Miss Hicks." That inviting grin remained, his pale green optics twinkling.

He certainly was a cheerful fellow. Not to mention, energetic. Yet, a part of me couldn't help but feel slightly flattered that he was genuine in that he had actually enjoyed our short conversation, even though I had accused him of stealing.

_What a…strange man., _I couldn't help but think. Not that that was entirely a bad thing.

I just smiled a bit again and jogged out upon a turn on my heel only to almost crash into two people. The three of us exchanged brisk apologies before I went on my way without a sparing glance while the couple, I only knew one was a woman and the other was a man, headed inside with urgency without looking at me either.

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><p><em>Thank you for reading~! Please review!<em>


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